Frightening Mysteries
by jackalope21
Summary: Magic runs rampant in the Scottish Highlands...


**Just something I'm toying with. Let me know what you think. **

**Outlander**

The air was crisp and fresh, things Claire hadn't been accustomed to in a great while. The war had all but tarnished her sense of smell forever. It was still littered with the stench of death, gunpowder and burning. Whether it be homes, vehicles or bodies licked by fire, the stench of burning was ever present. Even without the war, the Industrial Revolution ensured that the air in her time would never be completely clean again, always dotted with soot and exhaust. But here, in the Highlands, the air was clean.

She still found the people, sounds and sights odd, but for some reason the scent of the air stuck with her as much as the intense silence. There was no 'white noise' anymore. She didn't wake to the sound of dogs barking, people yelling, gunfire, screams or the random car horn. While most would find everything about the untouched land she found herself in calming and soothing even, it put Claire on end. After years of what was known as the Second World War, anything lacking chaos was off.

And she didn't even want to indulge her anger with the corsets…

But, despite the strange and uncomfortable, she was able to see the beauty in Scotland. It truly was a sight to behold and while her mind was littered with so many other thoughts, she could at least admire that.

Her feet still hadn't grown comfortable with the delicate, tanned leather shoes she'd been given. The souls were incredibly thin giving her feet every hint of something beneath her step. After a rather nasty pebble found its way into the most perfect of spots in her insole, Claire decided a break was needed. With her ever present shadow, she made her way to the thick grass just outside the castle's high walls. It wasn't much, but at least the chances of feeling something stab her feet was slim. Honestly, she might as well be barefoot.

Fluffing out her dress, Claire sank comfortably into the plush flora. The green stretched for as long as her eyes could gaze. Seas of it, rich, thick and soft, touched everything within sight. It spread along the grounds, clung to the sides of rocks and climbed up the thick trunks of the nearest trees. And when the wind blew, the grass would sway gently as though it was dancing. It was such a sight, she felt like it could have been just for her, like nature itself was trying to give her something calm and beautiful to look at and distract her mind. She was grateful, for the moment, until the sounds of thunder met her ears.

The men perched high above in their towers built with rickety wood perked instantly. Claire sat straight up and watched with her eyes peeled. To her untrained ear, it sounded as though a storm was coming even though the sky was blue. Being English however, Claire was accustomed to the strange comings and goings of autumn rains. This was not that. She knew the guards wouldn't be on edge if it were a storm.

Soon the thunder grew louder and she began to feel it rumbling through her feet. It climbed up her limbs until her very bones rattled within her body. But, just as she thought they may shake loose her very structure, the source appeared.

Great horses –larger than any she'd ever seen in person- burst through the tree line nearby. They charged forward with authority and purpose as they sailed over the beaten pathway. Five in total flew by her and if she hadn't felt each hoof pound into the Earth, Claire would have sworn they flew.

They bounded passed her as though she was nothing more than another boulder or rock jutting from the ground. She didn't garner even a second glance as the black steeds galloped by with their riders clad in robes and hidden from view.

Claire vaguely remembered Angus coming to her side and grabbing her arm as he hoisted her to his feet. She seemed too entranced by the scene to put up her usual fight when being ordered about. With his guide, her feet found themselves and soon she traveled back into the castle walls through the very gateway the horses had disappeared.

"What's happening?" she asked just before the steeds along with their mounts came into view again. "Who are those people?"

"No one ye nee' be worried 'bout." He hissed under his breath. "Come on now woman."

She scowled at his comments as she usually did, but he didn't notice. She hated being referred to in such a derogatory way and he knew it, he just didn't care. Whoever the strangers were, everyone seemed to be mixed with an odd assortment of emotions. From what Claire could gather, it was a combination of recognition followed shortly by intense trepidation.

Hushed whispers echoed through the courtyard to the point it was nearly deafening. It made her want to shield her ears, but strain to hear the whispers at the same time. Finally, once they reached the entrance to the castle, Angus relented his hold and Claire was finally given the chance to stand on her own. As though to show her irritation with him, she batted as her dress to straighten the nonexistent wrinkles his sharp contact had incurred. The haughty action ended quickly however, when some braves souls approached the silent riders.

Not surprising, Dougal was among them. He approached the riders apprehensively –which was odd for such an imposing man- but she assumed it could have been more because of the horses than the riders. The great black beasts hadn't calmed since stopping. They still stomped and moved in their place as though they sensed something 'wrong' in the air, something ominous that escaped their human counterparts. Then again, it could have just as easily been because the large Chief stood shoulder to shoulder with the animals. With something to use as scale, Claire was suddenly aware of just how frighteningly and unusually large the animals were.

Dougal spoke to the lead rider in relatively hushed tones that could only be heard by those closest to the conversation. The rider he spoke with replied in the same Gaelic everyone used. Her curiosity grew. Slowly, and without her silent chaperone, Claire slipped away from Angus's side and closer to the conversation being held. She didn't care what they said, nor would she have been able to understand it, but she wanted to catch a glimpse of the mysterious riders that made nearly half the village shift.

Her feet fell into the soft earth as she crept ever closer. She only had to move a few more feet to see the faces hidden beneath the hoods. Just a bit further… but it never came. Claire's steps stopped immediately when she was confronted with the black emptiness that should have been a face. The riders held nothing in the ways of one. Instead, a black veil covered everything that otherwise would have identified them as individuals. As it was, they were a small hoard of faceless, nameless creatures in black robes riding monstrous creatures with the same ebony coats. It was as though Death itself had ridden onto the castle grounds and some of the villagers seemed to sense it.

Dougal finished speaking to the lead rider. Unaware she was staring; Claire had slipped into her own world. Her mind swirled with vivid imagery. Every Death icon she'd ever been exposed to swam into her mind at once and flooded her with a mixture of feelings. Her apprehension showed no sign of ebbing and only grew worse when her gawking was discovered. The one who'd been speaking to Dougal turned its attention to her. Even through the blackout face, Claire knew whoever –whatever- dwelled within the thick, dusty fabric, was looking right at her and it chilled her blood. Her breath hitched and she swore she felt someone walk over her grave.


End file.
